


Blame it on the dress

by angellus08



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, WIP, angsty at the start, smut at the end, smut warning
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-28
Updated: 2017-10-28
Packaged: 2019-01-25 11:50:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,176
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12530684
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/angellus08/pseuds/angellus08
Summary: “Congratulations to the both of you.” Is what came out instead. Draco gave her a shocked stare from the corner of his eyes. She could tell from the way his nails practically dug into her waist he wanted to violently turn her around and shake her silly until she screamed everything she wanted at Potter.Instead, evil, selfish and conniving Pansy said, “I hope the best for you both.”Alternatively - Pansy goes to Harry and Ginny's Engagement Party with a single minded Agenda. Multi-Chapter Fic. Mostly 2 or 3 chapters.





	Blame it on the dress

 

> **Most of this is from Pansy's POV. Very little of Harry in the first chapter, and I apologize if you hate him. Hopefully he gets his act together.**
> 
> **There are a lot of Italics. And Pansy snorts a lot. Ye were warned.**

* * *

 

So here’s what she was going to do.

She wasn’t going to just _let it be_ , as Draco had so callously suggested. How dare the man, we’re Slytherins for fuck’s sake. We don’t let anything _be_.

Scowling to herself, she straightened in her chair and put the quill to the parchment. She always made devious plans better while writing them down. If you scuffled through her drawers you’d find a parchment proudly titled _“Enamoring the Boy Who Just Wouldn’t Die To Bend Me Over Aunt Philomena’s Ugly Purple Chair”_. Clearing her throat she thought about what she’d wear.

The blue dress. The one that hugged her curves in all the right places, flowed down up to her knees. And had a peek-a-boo cut at her chest, leaving just enough to the imagination to keep men enticed. He’d taken one look at her in that dress and struggled to keep his eyes on her face, sneaking a peek when he thought she wasn’t looking. You can always count on Gryffindor chivalry. Positively _pathetic_!

_Yes_ , she nodded to herself. That dress was it. She’s quite certain that dress did 80% of the work for her. Potter had very carefully searched for the dress from their heap of clothes that night, hanging off the edge of his bed as she watched him with curiosity. He’d picked it up with a solemn look on his face and folded it neatly. For a second, she’d been afraid that sleeping with her had broken his brain. Only something Pansy Parkinson could think.

He’d shifted back on the bed and carefully placed the folded dress in front of her face, held her hand in his like he was about to tell her that he had a debilitating disease and said, “You have to promise to not wear this anymore. _Ever_ .” She’d snorted in response, because well _duh_. He’d bent down and looked at her with all the seriousness of the Boy Who Killed Voldy The Terrible and whispered, “I can’t bear the thought of people looking at you like I did today. Or worse, imagining doing what I did.” He added with a dramatic shudder. She’d snorted again and made a mental note to wear it to all Ministry Party’s from now on.

Shaking her head, Pansy pushed the memories away. Reminiscing about the day’s Potter wasn’t an asshole was not conducive to her task right now. Scribbling with her nose scrunched up, she thought out loud, “You’re terrible at this Potter?”

“You can’t _possibly_ begin with that.” A voice drawled near the door to her room.

Pansy let out a huff, rolling her eyes as she caught the reflection of the smirking Blond Demon leaning against the door frame.

“I didn’t _ask_ for your help.”

“Oh! But you _need_ it, Pans.”

Letting out a loud sigh, she turned around and faced Malfoy as he dramatically fell on her bed. Cocking a brow at her, he added, “You really need my help. Cruelty is a Malfoy specialty.”

There was no denying _that_.

When she huffed and threw the quill to the side of her dressing table, a smile formed on her lips. Only thing better that her devious mind at work to ruin Potter’s happy day was her _and_ Draco’s devious mind at work to ruin his happy day.

That son of a bitch won’t know what hit him.

“What do you have in mind Draco?” She asked slowly, swirling her chair around like a villain from one of those god awful Bond movies Har- _Potter_ made her watch.

“Tell him he has a small prick and you almost fell asleep one time.” He had that loaded up for a while.

Pansy rolled her eyes, how typical of men. “Won’t have the kind of effect you want it to.”

“Why not?” Draco challenged.

“Because I told him the very opposite several times,” Pansy added with an almost wistful look on her face, “With many colorful expletives especially when he did that thing with his hips…”

Draco whistled loudly and babbled nonsense as he put his hands on his ears, visibly shivering in disgust and mimicking retching. “Merlin’s beard Pans, you’re ruining sex for me, and expletives and hips.” He added in afterthought, looking at her as if she’d personally and deeply offended him.

“But what thing with his hips though,” A curious, teasing voice asked from just outside her bedroom door. Astoria sauntered in wearing a pastel beige colored dress, how pure-blood of her, Pansy thought internally. She planted herself next to Draco, but continued looking at Pansy with genuine interest in her eyes, “Go on, that sounded _interesting_.”  

Draco made another disgusted sound and stared daggers at Pansy, who had to control her urge to laugh.

“And what would you suggest?” He threw the question at Astoria and watched her with curious gray eyes.

“I’ll flash my doe eyes at him, tell him I need his help and guide him to the bathroom. Where _you’ll_ be waiting for him in that blue dress of yours that stop’s all his brain functions. Then you show him exactly what he’s walked away from, only to walk _away_ at the very worst moment without a last look because _you_ deserve better.” Astoria said in a calm voice, and added a wink after she finished.

Pansy’s brows went high up on her forehead as Draco let out a low whistle, his eyes going wide as he reached out to pat Astoria’s knee. Pansy could see him make a mental note to never piss off his wife-to-be. It made her snort internally.

As fun as that would be, she knew what she was going to do. Pansy shook her head and smiled, standing up so she could get ready. “I know what I’m going to say,” She said nodding at Draco, “And it’s going to sting.”

* * *

 

She walked into the Grimmauld house with her head held high. She took one look at the blatantly red and gold decorations and controlled her eye roll. Her eyes lingered longer than she’d like at the gigantic magical sign that hung high by the drawing room “Congratulations Harry and Ginny”.

She knew exactly what she was going to say.

She was going to look Harry in the eye, not caring who was around him and what a fool she’d make of herself. She wouldn’t let him look away as she would say the words she’d practiced on her way over. “ _I told you I could have loved you, that I could be happy with you, I was wrong. I did love you, I was happy with you. I loved you even though it terrified me, I loved you like I was told I never could, I loved you like I’d crumble and destruct with you. I loved you like_ I _deserved to be loved. But instead I was abandoned like my father always told me I would be.”_    

* * *

                                                                             

Draco’s hand on her arm was almost painful as he guided them towards the happy couple. Pansy almost wanted to retch at that statement itself. She made it a point to look at Ginerva first, taking in the sight of the beaming woman. Her glorious red hair fell below her shoulders, she looked like an angel in her white sundress, and it was fucking symbolic if you asked Pansy. There was his fiancé, the love of his life, the reason he existed, looking like she had been blessed by Merlin himself. She radiated wholesomeness, warmth and virtue. And then there was Pansy; hair black as her heart, a permanent smirk on her ruby lips and her lithe body shoved into a tight, revealing dress putting everything of her on display. She was temptation and evil wrapped in a fiery little package. Everything about her begged to be the dirty little secret. Something she’d been for two years. Until that fateful night.

Her eyes darted towards Harry and she could feel her back stiffen as her eyes landed on him. He was dressed in his trademark Auror robes and looked ….. _something_ . Pansy couldn’t decipher his expression at this very moment. She’d seen a myriad of expressions cross his face over the years and could draw you a flowchart of events that could lead you to a particular expression from Merlin’s favorite wizard Harry _fucking_ potter. But right now, she just couldn’t place her finger on it. It unnerved her, this plan required him to be standing next to Ginevra with a proud, loving look on his face. Instead Pansy saw that his eyes were distracted, never holding the congratulatory look he got from friends for more than a second before flitting away. His brows were uncharacteristically clumped together, and she saw the telltale of a fake smile creep up on his face when Ron walked over and clinked their butter beer glasses together. When he thought no one was looking he gazed out the window of the Grimmauld Place, almost like he wanted to swan dive out of it.

Pansy violently shook that thought out of her head. Potter _was_ happy, this is what he wanted. That’s why he was here. And that’s why _she_ was here. He’d left her with nothing more than a parting kiss and a half-assed apology, lingering off halfway through telling her that if things were different etc etc etc. He’d stood in her potions shop in Diagon Alley and left her like she was _nothing_. She couldn’t go back to work for another month without wanting to the burn the whole place down.

“You know,” Draco whispered in her ear, her grip tightening on her arm as he winked at Astoria who watched them with narrowed eyes. She didn’t think this was a good plan. “I could knee the tosser in the groin, he’s still healing from his last mission.” When Pansy grimly shook her head, he could see that her confidence was slipping. She was going back to that wreaked heap she had been for months after their breakup. If you could even call it a breakup. Was it really a breakup if no one other than Granger and Draco even knew they were a thing.

“If nothing we’d ensure no Potter-Weasley mongrels graced this earth.” Draco asked with a raised brow. His worry was truly touching, and if she wasn’t so royally _fucked_ she’d make fun of him.

She swatted his hand slightly and shook her head for good measure. She knew her confidence was dropping, she knew the air of superiority she’d carried until this very moment was disappearing. If it wasn’t for Draco’s grip around her she was sure she wouldn’t be able to hide how her legs shook beneath her.

She was about to walk up to the man who’d quite _spectacularly_ fucked her life and calmly tell him just how much he’d fucked her up.  

When Zabini finally moved away from kissing up to the future Minister of Magic Harry Holier-than-thou Potter, Draco determinedly steered them towards the couple. From the corner of her eyes Pansy saw Harry suck in a deep breath and subtly remove his hands from Ginerva when his eyes landed on her. She had to restrain everything in her to not look at him right then, because if she knew that man, and _Gods_ did she know him, his eyes would be struggling to not roam over her dress. If the way his hands clenched into a fist at his sides was any sign then it had the effect she intended.

_“This dress is for my eyes only.”_ The memory of their first night hit her a rampaging hippogriff until she violently shook it off.

Her eyes landed on Ginny first, just as she wanted and in a turn of events that not only shocked Draco but her too, she said “Hello Ginny,” Saying her name felt like poison slipping from her mouth, she wasn’t entirely sure she hadn’t hissed rather than talk.

Then again, she was a filthy little Slytherin snake.

“You look lovely.” Pansy added in a voice she was certain didn’t belong to her. Who the hell was this calm and composed person speaking?

She now turned to finally look at the man who’d plagued her dreams for months and swallowed harshly. His usually calm green eyes raged a stormy shade as he gave her a tepid smile, his brows knitting further at his temple. When she didn’t respond but simply held out her hand, he looked disappointed. “Har-Potter,” Pansy croaked, blinking furiously as she took a deep breath and shook his hand for a fraction of a second.

He had to stop. He had to stop looking at her like _that_ , with so much expectation in his eyes. He saw him swallow and she knew he only did that when he was anxious. His hand instantly travelled up to run through his unruly hair and Merlin did she love that mop of mess he called hair. She opened her mouth, this was the moment. This was when she would get her vengeance, when she’d say her piece.

“Congratulations to the both of you.” Is what came out instead. Draco gave her a shocked stare from the corner of his eyes. She could tell from the way his nails practically dug into her waist he wanted to violently turn her around and shake her silly until she screamed everything she wanted at Potter.

Instead, evil, selfish and conniving Pansy said, “I hope the best for you both.”

Harry had stopped caring about pretenses anymore. His eyes burned a hole through her and she chose to look at Ginny and Draco as much as possible. She could feel them coming, the one thing she told herself she’d never do. Pain bubbled in her throat and threatened to burst through. And if she looked at him right now, if she saw how he was looking at her with absolute fear and worry she’d come apart.

“Potter.” Draco’s blank tone pulled her away as Pansy leaned against him and pretended to look Ginerva’s dress up and down in admiration.

“Malfoy.” Harry nodded at him, looking away from Pansy for a mere second.

“Well, we must on our way, the night’s still young.” Draco snarled, tagging Pansy away from them. She’d never loved Draco more than this moment right here.

Harry’s eyes caught her for a moment, and it took everything in her to not let out a gasp. His eyes searched for an answer within hers. To what fucking question? He looked…. _Worried_. She’d expected anger, shame and maybe even a little bit of guilt. But worry, that took her by surprise.

If Astoria hadn’t rushed to her side and blocked Harry from sight, she might have seen him take a step forward and softly say her name.

 

* * *

 

**2 years ago.**

 

“You’re terrible at this Potter.”

 

Harry startled, his brows crinkling in question as he mumbled, “At what?”

 

“Pretending to _not_ look down my dress.” Pansy supplied, snorting when his cheeks flamed, “It’s not as if I wore this dress to _not_ be ogled at.”

 

“ _What_ no. I wasn-I’m not. You’ve got …I swear I...” Harry seemed to go through all 5 stages of grief as he stumbled to a response. Finally reaching the acceptance stage, he sucked in a deep breath to hide his embarrassment as he said, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”

 

“ _Merlin_ you’re really no good at this.” Pansy chided, rolling her eyes and leaning against the bricked wall in the alley. The music from the club thumped against her back as she looked Potter up and down with a mischievous wink, if he was going to be flustered she might as well make the most of it.

 

“Good at what?” He asked sheepishly.

 

Harry visibly gulped when Pansy smiled wickedly and leaned forward, the teasing cut of her snug blue dress revealing even more of the contours of her breasts. He could imagine running his tongue over the outline of the dress. _Gods_ , did he want to. She pulled him out of his filthy imagination when she answered his question.

 

“ _Foreplay_.” She replied with a small wink.

 

“Fucking _hell_ , Pansy.” Came a hurried, knee jerk answer.

 

Potter lowered his head and made a gruntled sound, almost like a drowned cat being run over by a tractor. He swayed on the heels of his feet and stuck his hands in his pockets, a small laugh escaping his mouth. Pansy glanced down at the forgotten cigarette in his hand and snorted.

 

She’d made her escape for Cormac Mclaggen a while ago, feigning being drunk and needing to heave as she walked out of the back of the club. Besides Mclaggen’s unsubtle advances making her irate, she was right pissed at Draco. He’d dragged her over to get plastered at the new club but had spent the better part of the hour with his face buried in Astoria Greengrass’s breasts.  

 

_Tosser_.

 

She had walked right into the Saviour of the Wizarding World smoking in the alley. She’d almost turned around and left with a groan, not interested in him and his hero hair. However, the minute she saw the way his eyes widened and struggled to not lasciviously roam over her body she decided to stay. Granger had once mentioned that Potter riled up far too easily, and Pansy couldn’t pass up the chance to test that theory herself.

 

Plus, he _was_ fit. She’d be lying through her sparkly white teeth if she said she’d never given him a second glance over at the Ministry these past years. Auror training had done him well, _really_ well. Moreover, she didn’t spend an ungodly amount on this dress for it to go unnoticed.

 

And here they stood, talking about everything from her life since Hogwarts to his breakup with the Weasel girl to joint disgust at Draco getting handsy with Astoria, who just happened to be Potter’s assistant. Yes, he may only be a Senior Auror but then again, he was Harry _fucking_ Potter so he got his own personal assistant. She’d spent about 2 minutes ripping him for that. All the while, Potter’s eyes kept drifting from her face to her chest and legs when he thought she couldn’t tell. At one point, Pansy was sure she saw him lick his lips like he was imagining what he wanted to do.

 

Again, if she told you that a part of her didn’t want to know what he was imagining, didn’t want to feel him do whatever he was thinking about, she’d be lying.

 

And, Pansy Parkinson may be a lot of things, but a liar is not one of them.

 

So she’d played into it a bit more, looking away into the distance as if she was contemplating her existence, to give him the chance to leisurely look at her. And yet, a man who was undoubtedly referred to as the bravest Wizard alive, did nothing. Absolutely _nothing_. He didn’t make a double entendre when she led him right into a handjob euphemism, or hand her his coat when she shivered from the cold. Instead he just waved his hand and administered a warming charm on them both. He didn’t even take a step closer to her for fuck’s sake.

 

And yet when she bent slightly to remove her monstrous heels she saw his eyes darken and shift to the newly exposed skin of her thighs. When she took a step towards him he unconsciously took one back. It was like he was afraid to come near her, like he wouldn’t have any control on what he did. If only he could tell from her pink cheeks, the way her lashes lowered and her Mclaggen level unsubtle pushes for him to make a goddamn _move,_ he’d figure out that she wanted him to lose control and do whatever he was stopping himself from doing.

 

Merlin, this man was thick.

 

“So what are you doing here Pansy.”

 

His abrupt, contemplative question yanked her out of her stupor. “Hmm.” She mumbled, bending her left leg at the knee and resting her heel against the alley wall. While striking, these heels were a damn nuisance. And she had been standing here for close to an hour now.

 

“I said,” Potter re-questioned, his brows clumping together in annoyance as he discarded the cigarette and pulled another from his packet. “What are you doing here, Pansy.”

 

The fact that he used her actual name and not Parkinson didn’t go unnoticed as she tilted her head to give him a proper look. Rolling her eyes when he lit his fourth cigarette in under an hour she said, “How do you mean?”

 

“I mean, why are you here?” Potter supplied, letting out an exasperated sigh when she still looked at him like he was speaking parseltongue, “With _me_.’ He added.

 

“Oh.”

 

_Ok then_.

 

Pushing herself off the wall, Pansy picked up her purse from the floor and made to leave. Not only did this man have no clue, he also had no tact.

 

“No that’s not what I meant.”

 

Pansy whirled around and gave him a look that used to make Draco cower. Harry winced and turned to look at his feet like he was a 5 year old child. “Potter, are you high?” Pansy hissed, her voice colored with annoyance. _Damn it all to hell_ , she’d thought this was going somewhere. “The Weasel Twin testing their products on you? You seem to be making no sense.”

 

“I was…” Harry sighed loudly, like he’d prefer having another go with Voldemort than actually attempt to articulate his thoughts to Pansy. “You wanted to get away,” He shrugged towards the club, “Didn’t exactly plan on having company. Especially not _my_ company. So I was just wondering why you’re still here.”

 

“It - it didn’t mean that I wanted you to go.” _Please, don’t go._

 

“What _do_ you want me to do Potter?”

 

Harry blinked. Then he shrugged and pointedly looked at a spot above her shoulder and lamented, “Not go.”

 

Pansy blanched. Her mouth opened in what was sure to be a _spectacular_ insult, only to snap it shut in a loud huff. Shoving her purse back onto the floor, almost violently to be honest, she leaned back against the wall and rested one aching heel against it.

 

This man had mush for brains. She was _positive_ . His eyes may be a stormy shade of green that rooted her to the spot, his hair an untamable mess she wanted to run her hands through and _yes_ , she did want to fuck him. She wasn’t blind.

 

She wasn’t dumb either. She should have walked away, adding an extra sway to her hips. Yes, walking away was definitely the most optimum response to Potter and his monumental indecisiveness.

 

And yet, here she was. Cursing herself inertly and staring up at the starry sky, resolutely refusing to look at him.

 

“Do you smoke?” Potter asked vaguely.

 

Pansy startled for a second, not actually expecting him to say anything. Looking down at him she almost did a double take. _Godric's left nut_ , the man had actually taken two steps towards her, a lopsided grin curved around his lips as he offered her a cigarette.

 

“Uhm.”

 

“If you’ve never had one before, I can teach you.” Potter offered, his eyes twinkling - _twinkling?! what the hell is wrong with you Pansy admonished inertly_ \- as he took another step forward, now standing only 3 feet from her.

 

Pansy controlled a snort and roll of her eyes. _Teach her_. She was a Slytherin, she knew how to smoke. But there was something about the way he grinned, almost smirked that had her interested. He seemed extremely eager to include nicotine addiction to her growing list of vices. Grinning back at him, she leaned forward to carefully pick a cigarette from his packet.

 

This time though, he didn’t pretend to not look over her. His cheeks coloring just slightly before he stepped closer to her and removed something from his robes.

 

“Go on then Potter. _Teach me_.” She whispered the last two words in a low sensual baritone that settled somewhere deep in his gut.

 

“Put it in your mouth.” He said, “The filtered end.” There really wasn’t any need to start with such basic instructions, as if she had any doubt where the cigarette was supposed to go. But she humored him, and didn’t bite back with a comment.

 

_Yes_ she complied, only letting out a small grumble as she wrapped her pink lips around the _filtered_ end of the cigarette.

 

Harry moved forward and brought a muggle lighter to it, how Potter of him to not use his wand. Bringing the flame to the other end of the cigarette he smirked up at her and said in a surprisingly demanding voice that sent a chill down her spine, “Suck. And don’t gag when the smoke hits.”

 

_Oh_ they were back in the land of double entendres. Raising a threatening brow but nonetheless conforming with his instructions she hollowed out her cheeks, watching the orange flames smoulder as her cigarette was lit. He seemed to enjoy that sight immensely.

 

Pansy almost wanted to flick the cigarette aside, shove him against the wall and drop to her knees. But she was greatly enjoying this shy yet domineering display of _foreplay_ from him. Placing both her feet firmly on the ground, she picked the cigarette from her mouth and inhaled deeply. With great gusto she blew the smoke right into his face, expertly taking another drag before letting her hand fall to her side.

 

A laughing potter emerged a second later, his shoulders shaking with mirth. Oh, there was no doubt he knew that she knew how to smoke. She couldn’t help send a small wink and snort at the way he was chuckling at her.

 

On the scale of 0 to Mclaggen this particular move from Potter was quite shitty to be honest. She’d rank it somewhere between 5 and 6. And yet, when he licked his lips and continued looking at her like she was a buffet, she could feel her nipples tighten and heat pool at the pit of her stomach. The urge to snake her hand around his neck and wrap her legs around his waist was overpowering. A simple glance down made it clear to her that he was already half hard.

 

All thoughts of violently shoving his pants down and sucking him dry in a back alley where his Gryffindor posse could find them vanished into thin air when he suddenly closed the gap between them in a second. Before she could gather her bearings his hand was at the back of her neck tugging her towards him and his lips were slanting over hers. Too shocked that he had made the first move, she almost froze at the contact. But Potter didn’t relent, his body pushing her into the wall. A sheet couldn’t fit between them. Slowly, her brain caught up with her body as her hands fisted his mop and her lips parted to allow him entrance.

 

It wasn’t quiet and kind. Though she argued that nothing between them could ever be quiet and kind. This was Pansy Parkinson and Harry Potter after all.    

 

The build up to this exact moment had been an hour coming, and none had the patience for pretend. The cigarette simpered between her fingers as she frantically tugged his shirt loose from his pants. She supposed that he mumbled about going to his place but she couldn’t quite hear anything after his nimble fingers found their way between her legs, his pained mumbles of _“Gods” and “So fucking wet..”_ dying against her gasps and moans.

 

The cool air hit her overheated skin, making her hiss as Harry dislodged their tangled limbs to pull her knickers down and unbuckle his belt in an impressive display of speed and multitasking no one knew he possessed.  

 

Her damned heels dug into the back of his thighs as he buried himself inside her in a single, fluid motion. His tongue found the outline of her dress at her left shoulder and traced the path to the other, only stopping to leave marks on the top of breasts. He was going to bruise her, his lips and teeth leaving marks all across her neck and his hands gripping her hips in place as he pounded into her. She returned the favor, leaving scars along his back with her nails, digging her heel into his thigh, which only seemed to spurn him on.

 

It wasn’t quiet and kind from any angle. The exact opposite; loud and brash, and if any onlookers were to comment the word “gross” would definitely come up.

 

Pansy had to bite her lip to stop the horrifying word ( _Oh God Potter!_ ) leave her mouth when she finally came, her face buried in the crook of his neck. Despite her vehement disgust of calling out his name, she moaned something around the likes of _“Har-fuck”_ when she collapsed. Imagine the horror, she was about to moan his first name.

 

_First_.

 

_Moan_.

 

_Shudder_.    

 

Thankfully, he was too preoccupied with his own release to notice as his hips pistoned once, twice and he emptied himself inside her with a rumbling groan that sounded oddly like _fuck parkinson_ in her ear.

 

She knew in the moments after his release, even as she could feel him soften inside her that she hadn’t had enough. She wanted more of him, wanted to see what other ridiculous double entendres he could use to get into her knickers. She wanted to know if she could get on her knees and get him hard again with her hands and mouth. She wanted to know if he’d wrinkle his nose at her morning breath and smoke as she read the morning paper.

 

And if the way he determinedly held her against him, refusing when she tried to put one leg down, he hadn’t had quite enough of her either. Through his light kisses and nips around her shoulder and neck she picked up the faint, slightly unsure words, “Want to come back to my place.?”

 

“Pans-... Oh _Merlin_ , _my eyes_.”

 

Draco bursting out of the door and retching loudly at them stopped her from replying a embarrassing“ _YES_ ” before Potter even finished his sentence. Perish the thought. _Ugh_

 

Eyeing Draco with a small apologetic grin Pansy winced as Potter pulled out of her with a grumbled, “Stupid Ferret.” Her heart almost missed a beat when he didn’t let go of her waist as he pulled her dress up to cover her chest.and smoothed her dress down with one hand.

 

Oh they definitely weren’t done.

 

If it all went to hell, Pansy thought internally, they both could simply blame the dress.

* * *

 

**Author's Note:**

> I plan on this being a 2 or three chapter fic.


End file.
